Soul Cries
by rsmitz18
Summary: A gripping, intriguing and unqiue romance about a dark-skinned vampire, Bella Swan, who falls in love with the dangerously forbidden vampire soul, Edward Cullen. Will their love expire under the hands of the Potentia?


Soul Cries

Prologue

_Shattered breaths._

_Dying-worthy thirst._

_The hunger that suffocates you inside. The strong hands gripping the neck with such a firm brace, you begin to wonder if life is even worth living._

_But that craving desire inside you encourages you to persist, persist to continue with your mission._

_The unexplainable but undeniably irresistible feeling that hugs you from the internal interior within as hell begins to fade beneath the pureness of the soft air, and tranquillity is restored in a peaceful manner._

_My beautiful soul is crying._

The name's Bella Swan. I belong to the prolonged race of the solsuris. Solsuris are just generally dark skinned vampires. Funny enough, we don't like blood, in fact I _hate _it. I cannot even begin to imagine why someone would want to suck blood out of a creature's body. But maybe what us Solsuri's do you may find much more sickening. We're more active at night. While humans escape the world into the safe consignment of their dreams, we quietly hover over them and lock our lips to their skin, and began to breathe in to our bodies, sucking the air they use at night.

The Solsuris originate from the large and humid continent of Africa. Firstly discovered by a group of young, vegetarian vampires who sailed to Africa to hunt for lions. They were not victims of Solsuris, but rather targets. When they were sensed by smell, they were immediately stalked by the 'Potentia'. The Potentia coven (the Royal Solsuris) killed them eventually which brought on the Battle of Vrovia twelve thousand, six hundred and six years ago. From now, there are no current _real _vampires remaining. Instead, there are only vampire souls [vouls]. Their birth is from the remains of several dead vampires. 

As of now, I'm in love with a Voul. His name is Edward Cullen. He is too beautiful. And he cares for me more than my parents ever did (it's a solsuri tradition to leave your children alone at the age of 10). It's legal under the guidance of the rules of the Potentia that a solsuri can only mate with their own kind, otherwise they face serious consequences.

I've seen the punishments. The Potentia coven are horrid, heartless and utterly cold. They do not care to listen for your reason, once a rule is broken, nothing else matters to them. If a solsuri breaks one rule in their lifetime they lose all the sleep they have gained for their whole life living as a solsuri. 

My mother broke the rule of leaving an unacceptable secret in one of her human victims. Sometimes if you suck too much sleep out of a human, you leave secrets in them. Human sleep is like a drug that you need to be able to control, exquisitely fresh as it enters your mouth, then the warmness of your soul makes you feel like you are now residing in heaven. It tastes better than love. Human Sleep is second to love in my view. Nothing can beat that composed, lukewarm feeling twirling miraculously through your body when your soul mate lightly touches or strokes you. 

Nothing can beat the sound of your heart beating, flooding your ears with great amplitude, or the fact that nothing else matters to you and you forget all the pessimistic things in your life as he holds you. Nothing can beat the beautiful flow of dreams reoccurring every night each one consisting of the one you love.

The feelings you feel cannot be explained with just words as the teacher. Life is no longer a daily struggle to fight and battle, instead it's a contently filled pleasure that awaits you to take the next step in the balance of Love and Life. Love contributes to your soul reaching gratifying satisfaction. Life contributes to the swift change of moods your soul can hold and illustrate.

But anyway, the 'Secret Leavers Solsuris' are like the drug addicts of the solsuri clan. 

The human victim sees secrets floating everywhere in a handwritten format. These human victims suffer from insomnia and when their eyes are closed they are not sleeping. Instead, they are locked in an inescapable world of secrets and cannot breathe. If it's a serious matter, the secrets can possess the humans and transform them into souls.

When my mother left the secret revealing the legend of the solsuris unknown to many humans, the Potentia came after her. She had already broken the rule of trying to argue with one of the Potentia convenes when they had stolen her well trained soul without warning. She was brave to stand up to him, his rule didn't consist of one bit of fairness.

I was nine at the time, and it felt like a sharp, thin piece of metal was cutting deeply through my soul heart, slowly but excruciatingly each redundant time. Each day seeing her suffering from the loss of her life (sleep is like life to us) was adding a bigger piece of material to the burden laid cumbersome on my back. She would scream uncontrollably and piercingly every night. 

Each broken scream cried from her natural red, sweet lips shook you to the race of tears. The words that the soul heart could not express. She would suffocate frequently, about every five minutes. Invisible but stone cold arms made me flinch at every touch with their tight grasp seizing me to gasp, desperate for air to enter my soul . And I didn't even know who those rock-hard arms belonged to.

I used to visit her with my friend Marisse, who shared the same name with my mother, when she had broken the second rule._ It_ was the tallest of the tallest buildings, imperceptible from the human eye's retina's intense stroke when it first touched an object. 

The Solsuri Inferno was the buildings name. It climbed higher than the clouds at an unsurprising hundred thousand feet. My mother was in room forty thousand and six. Only solsuris with three or more souls were entitled access to the elevator, so it took Marisse and I a day and a half up the steps to reach her room, and we would start our journey at five in the morning usually.

She didn't recognise us, which is why Marisse didn't see the point in visiting her. I even visited her when she had abandoned me. I was no longer her daughter. In the solsuri world, we were strangers meeting for the first time.

But I remembered her as the mother that brought me up as the respecting, timid girl I was. So I didn't care if she was no longer my mother, in my eyes she still was the mother chicken and I was the little yellow chick.

Inferno is Italian for hell. Which is what the Solsuri Inferno Building was, Solsuri's own personalised version of Hell. But probably even worse than the human one in the sky. 

Solsuris living in the rooms of the SIB did not die, but they went through the most painfully tragic experience ever, for eternity. There were a range of heart-rending incidents. My father's experience was getting burned by hot water. My mother's was getting run over by a train. It was a continuous heartache.

I could imagine what my mother was feeling, seeing that incessant dream unveiling in your mind every second under the hands of perpetuity. Then even worse, having to suffer and undergo the torture and anguish. The train making it's way down to her, your blood boiling, your heart on fire, your limbs weak and rigidly inflexible and thrown to the world of death. 

Then the train at its rapid speed hurdles over your body, and the limbs spread out mutilated and disfigured. A blood river enveloping and concealing the rail track in an obscure fashion. I've tried to experience what my mother feels for every second of her life, but I don't have the guts to sense the incident.

Sometimes your experience is the one you went through as you died as a human. It had to be really disastrous and agonizing though. Young Solsuri's are not advised to go to the SIB for visits, because the chaos is too intensely severe for their fresh minds to handle, and they are scarred for life mentally, and in some cases physically. 

I could cope a little. At first the screaming was too loud and obtrusive, but when I started to visit regularly I got a little used to it. Victims would fall off their beds and be rolling in agony on the floor, but there would be a box surrounding their bed, like being quarantined but in a merciless method.

Victims everywhere would be pulling their hair out, jumping up and down in pain, yelling, crying manically, so many mad things. It was the most heartbreaking thing to watch, much worse than seeing one of your most loved relatives being killed right in front of you. Even if they were your only relative or asset you had left.

And at the top corner of the room, there was an empty, dirty bed. It was waiting for someone. Waiting for that solsuri to aggravate the Potentia and break two rules. Frightening in an implausibly intimidating way and also invitingly greeting and warmly receptive in irony.

Who knew, that the disturbing bed at the top right-hand corner of the glacially bitter and arctic conditions of room forty thousand and six, was going to be my new residence soon.

**A/N: What did you think? I'm new to this whole writing fanfics thing so I really don't mind negative reviews, hopefully I can work on some issues. Please comment on the layout structure and the content of the story. Reviews are as delicious as starbucks fraps :) Thanks for reading!**


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